


Forgive and Forget

by Hatsepsut



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Break Up, F/M, Fenris has to work for it., Fluff and Angst, Reconciliation, Varric being a prat, not smutty, not so fast buster, subtle mention of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 21:58:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4075285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatsepsut/pseuds/Hatsepsut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After three years, Fenris has realised that he needs another chance with Hawke, the woman he abandoned. But it won't be so easy...he has to work to earn her forgiveness.<br/>For all of you that think that AHwke forgave fenris WAY to easily in the the game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgive and Forget

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nomadka](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Nomadka).



She woke up, her body feeling incredibly content, her heart singing with joy and immediately looked to her side, trying to find his warmth on her mattress, reaching a hand out to touch him.

He wasn’t there.

She turned to her right, and there he was, dressed  in that spiky armour, staring at her fireplace like it had somehow offended him, his expression guarded and troubled.

She attempted to joke at first, her heart growing cold at the distant look he gave her, distress growing inside her at his anguish, at the pain something she could only describe as life-changing had brought to him.

She asked him not to go. She even begged. But in the end it was useless, just as useless and pointless as the tears that slipped down her face as she heard the door close behind him.

He left.

He left her, broken-hearted, feeling betrayed and alone on the same bed he had taken her, on the same bed that still held his scent.

She stared long after he left at that door, willing him with every fibre of her being to come back. Every small creak and groan the old house gave made her heart leap with joy thinking it was him, him returning after having calmed down and thinking about it and regretting leaving her. But he never came back.

The sun rose over Kirkwall and she kept staring at the door, until with a sigh she gave up and  she buried her head in her hands and cried like she hadn’t cried for years. He wasn’t coming back. What had been the most amazing night in her life was nothing more than scratching an itch for him. She dismissed his excuses, his feeble attempts to explain. If she had mattered to him, if she had meant anything more than a cheap thrill, he wouldn’t have gone. He would have stayed and tried to work through this with her.

Marian Hawke had just found herself hopelessly in love with someone that had treated her like a woman bought for the night. Feeling cheapened and used, she turned her side to the door and buried her head in the pillow.

No need to get up that day, was there?

* * *

Fenris had thought that the days that followed would be awkward and tense. But he had been mistaken. She was her usual happy, carefree self, treating him with the same courtesy and respect that she always did. She never once mentioned that night between them, she didn’t even questioned the red sash around his wrist, or her crest on his belt.

The other members of their little group made speculations and even questioned him. He just blushed and growled and told them to mind their own business. But they didn’t give up so easily...they had all been sitting together at a table at the Hanged Man when one of them, the dwarf, had questioned Hawke if there was something going on between them.

That had been the only time he detected a hint of pain and sadness in her eyes, before she had laughed and just replied that no, there was nothing going on between them.

She had looked to Fenris then, who had been staring at her with a blush spreading and looked intently at him, a little wry smile masking her expectant anticipation that he would turn around and correct her. When he didn’t she had just looked away and laughed, a small mirthless peal of laughter.

That laugh had been the most bitter thing he had ever heard.

Unable to take the pain clenching his heart like a fist, he had  gotten up, tossed some coins on the table and left.

Later that night, he had come back to get his coin purse that he had forgotten in Varric’s room when his hand had frozen on the handle of the door.

“We are alone now, Hawke,”  the dwarf had been telling her. “You don’t fool me. What is going on with that glowy elf?”

She had then turned to Varric, with a small smile on her lips and had said  “He came, he fucked, he left... End of story.”

Fenris’ breath had caught at the pain in her voice.

 “I’m a big girl. I can take it,” she’d said to the dwarf, in answer to the pitying look he’d shot her. “Stop pestering him. It wasn’t his fault.”

“You want Bianca here to have a word with him?”

“Yeah, right,” he had heard her scoff. “Threaten him into giving a flying fuck about me. That will help.”

“I am sorry, Hawke. I wish there was something I could do.”

“If wishes were horses, Varric, beggars would ride. There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing anybody can do. Fenris doesn’t give a shit about me, and that’s that. I have to forget about it and move on.”

Fenris had stood there, stunned, feeling his heart break and shatter. She hadn’t been completely alright with it then, but she had never let him see. He had the sudden urge to burst into the room and tell her she was wrong, but his feet wouldn’t move. Frozen in place with pain in insecurity and , yes, fear, he had to admit it, he had stayed on and heard them talk about a million other things, hoping against hope she would say something more about him.

But other than that incident, nothing. Not a single accusatory stare, not a single harsh word, not any questions or confrontations. Sometimes, when he turned his head her way abruptly, he caught glimpses of her looking at him; but it was longing that he caught in her expression before she schooled herself against showing anything other than a friendly smile. She never again referred to that night, never mentioned it, never gave any inward indication that she had any intimate knowledge of him.

It would have been so much easier if she had hated him. It would have been so much better if she had moved on...Anders and Sebastian were always sniffing after her like randy dogs, but she paid them no attention. Merrill had asked her one day in her usual cluelessness why she didn’t find a nice man to marry, and she had replied that without love it wasn’t worth it. When Merrill had asked “why not find someone to love, then?”  Hawke had laughed and replied “Too much pain. Not worth it.”

Those little glimpses into her pain and disappointment, disappointment she normally hid so well, were enough to tear his heart to little bloody pieces, knowing he had put that in her, he had caused her all her disillusionment. Guilt and shame churned like poison in his gut, along with desire and longing, until he had no idea what to call the feelings battling inside him. Guilt usually prevailed, guilt and regret, along with anger at his own amazing stupidity.

Because nothing she had said was true. He hadn’t fucked her and left her. He had left the biggest part of himself with her that night, half his heart, half his soul. And he didn’t know how to get them back. The Void take him, he didn’t even know if he wanted to.

He found himself dreaming of her, longing for her, thinking of her continuously. He found himself trailing after her like a love-sick puppy, unable to tear himself away and just move on, find the next city in which to hide. He was caught giving her ‘puppy  eyes’ as Merrill had called his wistful expression. He caught himself sighing over her, sniffing the air appreciatively whenever she passed by, letting himself get hurt so she would run her hands over him to check his injuries. In short, he caught himself being pathetic and got furious at both his weakness and his inability to stop it.

He had no one else than himself to blame, but his ire was often directed to his companions, and more often than not, even to her. She just gave him a smile and a kind comment and made him feel about ten inches tall. If she had raved and ranted and called him names, maybe this guilt inside him would have eased, but her easy, casual acceptance was even harder to take because he felt totally unworthy of it. If she had refused to talk to him or look at him, he would have felt horrible, but he would have also felt appropriately punished for his treatment of her. Now it felt as if she was rewarding him for deserting her by being his friend. And it only made his shame so much worse.

Fenris was incapable of realizing he was in love with her, missed all the simple and obvious signs his own soul was sending him. And so he suffered. He suffered every single day, woke up every morning dreading this would be the day he would see her in somebody else’s arms, feeling both relief and guilt when she turned out to be just as alone as the previous day. He suffered not knowing what made her so important to him, he tormented himself with what ifs and possibilities. But most of all he tortured himself with not knowing what in the Maker’s name to do to make the torment end.

He watched her lose her mother, and although every instinct in his soul screamed for him to go to her side, he didn’t. He watched her fight the Arishok and although his every cell in his body demanded he step in and help her, he didn’t. He passed under her window every night and although he longed to climb up and just take a peek at her while she was sleeping, he didn’t.

And the longing gazes got fewer and fewer every day. She seemed to have put the whole incident behind her, he even watched her flirt with other men and tormented himself with the realization he had brought this on himself. While his fascination and obsession with her grew every day, every waking hour, she seemed to have left him behind; she had finally taken her own advice: she had forgotten and moved on. Fenris suffered with the knowledge, and stubbornly resisted the urge to return to her, hiding behind the excuse that he was not free to make such monumental decisions until his old master was dead.

Before he knew it, three years had passed.

* * *

Danarius was dead, his unnatural existence had been ended when Fenris himself had snapped his neck. Reeling from the revelations of that day and the amazing weight of freedom on his shoulders, he stayed holed up in his mansion for days, trying to sort through and analyze his feelings.

On the third day she came to see him, after all his companions had come to visit him and offer him congratulations on his newfound freedom. He could travel, they had told him, he could do anything he wanted. But what did he want? What DID he want?

He asked this question to himself time and time again, and only one thing came to his mind as an answer. _What do you want?_ _Hawke_. _Hawke, Hawke, HAWKE_. His mind screamed it to him again and again, every time he asked it, providing the answer easily and effortlessly.

And just like that, as if his thought had conjured her up, she was in front of him and they were talking about his options. She was asking him what he was going to do now that he was free and he found himself as if in a dream referring to that night they had spent together.

“I felt like a fool,” he told her. “ I thought it would be better if you hated me, I deserved no less.” He gave her a sad look and the way she averted her eyes to the far wall crushed his courage for a minute. But he had started this, and by the Maker he was going to see it ended, one way or another. He got up  and approached her, his heart for the first time on his sleeve. “But it isn’t better. That night...I remember your touch as if it was yesterday.” A blush spread and told him she did too. He regained some of his courage and blurted the words out. “I should have asked for your forgiveness a long time ago. I hope you can forgive me now.”

She paused for just a minute. “I need to understand why you left, Fenris,” she softly said in the end.

He hung his head in shame. “I have thought about that a thousand times...the pain, the memories it brought up...It was too much. I was a coward.”

He looked away again. “If I could go back, I would stay. Told you how I felt.”

She crossed her hands in front of her chest. Oh-oh. Not looking good.

“What would you have said?”

 Last chance to set this right, he thought to himself. Pouring all of his hidden emotions into his next phrase and the look in his eyes  he said “Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you.”

She smiled wryly. “Really? Nothing? Try living in pain for three years because you were treated as a cheap fuck by the person you love.”

He was taken aback by the annoyance and anger in her voice so the words took a while to  register. But when they did...his breath caught. His heart missed the next beat. “You...you... love me? Did I hear you correctly, Hawke?”

“You are the only one that hasn’t noticed,” she smiled, a sad, tired smile.

She then got up and walked to the fireplace, rubbing her arms as if she was suddenly cold.

“For three years I have loved you, waited for you, dreamt of you. And you didn’t even notice.”

She turned to look at him and the sorrow in her eyes took his breath away.

“Do you realise what you did to me by walking away that night, Fenris?” her voice was lost and sad and he had this sudden urge to kick himself black and blue. “I stared at that door for hours, praying that you would come back. You never did. It broke something inside me when you didn’t. Like a fool, I cried for hours when I got my monthly blood; I’d hoped I was pregnant. But you didn’t give me anything of yourself that night –I had nothing.”

He felt as if the floor was spinning under his feet. “You...Hawke...Maker’s blood...I thought you had gotten over it long ago. You never gave any indication that you were...in pain.”

She looked at him over her shoulder.

“What good would that have done? Would it have stroked you ego to know I was suffering? Would it have made you feel better about yourself? Fenris, you left me. I was humiliated enough. I wasn’t going to throw myself at your feet, too.”

Fenris sighed and rubbed his forehead. “And so we lost three years...” he smiled ruefully. “Three years because I was too much of a coward and you were too proud. What a pair we make, Hawke...”

She smiled too, although her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. He sighed again and moved closer, until there were just inches between them.

“Hawke... Marian,” he gazed deep into her eyes, “if there is a future to be had, I will walk in it gladly at your side.”

“It isn’t as easy as that, Fenris,” she whispered, and her words chilled him to the bone although her head came to rest on his shoulder, fitting against him like the missing piece of a puzzle. “I have to...think about it. I can’t just let you breeze into my life like that, you hurt me too much to...”

Her blue, blue eyes were calm as she looked at him. His chest tightened as he realized it wasn’t going as he had hoped. She wasn't going to accept his apology, or take him back. Suddenly he was plunging down a deep drop that didn't have an end. Dear Maker, had he ruined the best thing that had ever happened to him because he hadn't been able to acknowledge it?

There was a thick lump in his throat; he had to swallow twice before he could speak again.“I understand,” he muttered. “Tell me what I can do to make amends, Hawke.”

"Oh, Fenris, it isn't a matter of making anything up to me," she cried softly. "You make it sound like this is about you doing penance or something. It’s not like I have a scoreboard and after you tally so many points I’ll take you back! This is about us, our relationship –if there is any-and whether we can have any kind of future together."

 "Then tell me what it is that you are concerned about. Hawke, I can't fix it if I don't know what it is."

"If you don't know what it is, then nothing in the world can fix it."

He raised a hand to touch her face and she recoiled, her eyes fearful. That was the last draw, it drove a knife through his heart to see her so guarded against him.  What was it that she wanted him to do? He knew he had hurt her, but how was he supposed to know how to fix things if she didn’t tell him? Didn’t she know he was hopeless at relationships in general and romance in particular?

“Hawke...just tell me,” he cajoled, running his hand through her hair. “What must I do?”

“You know already Fenris. And if you don’t, you need to find out.”

"Are we down to riddles now? I'm not any good at mind reading," he warned, frustration mounting in him. "Whatever you want, just ask it of me. I can deal with reality, but guessing games are not my strong suit."

"I'm not jerking you around, Fenris,” she said, watching the irritation in his eyes turn to frustration and then to anger. “I'm not happy with this situation, either. I have been waiting for you to come back to me for years..but I just can’t risk getting hurt again. I need to know you mean it this time."

Fenris let out a deep breath and lowered his head. “I do mean it...from the bottom of my heart.”

“Prove it.”

He leaned in and kissed her, a slow, adoring brush of his lips on hers, trying to convince her with his body, since he couldn’t with his words. She sighed and went lax against him, surrendering to him, and Fenris sighed at the amazingly right sensation of her soft curves meshing with his wiry frame.

“Please, Hawke...” he pleaded with her. “At least, point me in the right direction. Being without you...these past three years...they have been torture. Tell me what will make you change your mind and forgive me.”

She smiled and stroked his face with her hand, her eyes glazed. “You are already on the right direction, Fenris,” she cryptically responded before she left, leaving a completely puzzled and bewildered elf behind her.

* * *

He went to Sebastian for advice, but the Prince was just as clueless. He just told him to place his faith in the Maker and pray. Lots of help, that.

Anders, according to rumors, had been quite a heartbreaker before Justice, but the day that Fenris would willingly go to the abomination for advice would be the one that Knight Commander Meredith would willingly kiss a blushing Orsino. Not happening.

So he went to Varric. The dwarf wrote romance novels after all. He was both savvy and worldly, and he knew women, if the long trail of females of all races he had watched leaving his room over the years was any indication.  Varric also knew Hawke, he was her closest friend. If there was a person who could, would, should help, that was the dwarf.

Fenris downed his ale, winced at the horrible taste and waited for Varric to stop laughing. He downed another one, and grimaced again. Ah, the taste! Stale ale strained through dirty socks, simply divine. He didn’t know what was worse, the drink or the continuous chuckling from the dwarf.

“Enough, dwarf...” he mumbled menacingly. “You will choke on your own laughter.”

Varric wiped his eyes. “So let me see if I get this right, Broody,” he smiled. “You crawled back to her, after three years, she told you what we have all known all this time, that she loves you, _you dolt_ , and then when you said you wanted to be with her, she literally gave you the ‘tell it to the hand’ thing.”

Fenris growled and Varric started chuckling again. “Oh, how I wish I had been a fly on the wall!”

“How I wish it too, Varric,” Fenris replied. “Parchment. Roll. Splash.”

“Oh-ho-ho! Humor from the elf! Alert the Chantry!”

“Will you help me or not, dwarf? Fenris sighed, and shot Varric a pleading look. “I hate to admit it, but...I am quite desperate.”

Varric leaned back into his chair, enjoying the moment. Damned elf had put his buddy Hawke through three years of pain and heartbreak. Varric had watched her cry herself to sleep after a few ales too many times to remember. He was tempted, ,sorely tempted, to take a little bit of revenge and have some fun with the sodding elf. Hawke would pluck out every single one of his chest hairs with tiny tweezers, of course...Ah, it would be worth it!

“Woo her.” he tossed to the elf.

“Woo...her? What do you mean?” Fenris shot him a perplexed look.

“Woo her, you daft elf. Court her, send her flowers, send her candy, serenade her, take her dancing. Show her you care.”

Fenris sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“Oh, Maker...”

“He can’t help you. Try a florist.”

Hawke received the first bouquet of flowers from Fenris the next day and smiled before placing them in a vase. She read his card and bit down on her lip. _Please forgive me_ , said the little card tucked among the red roses.

She sighed and sniffed the fragrant blooms. Apologies were grand, flowers were even better. But none of it was what she wanted. She looked at the door to her room and shuddered. All she wanted was the assurance that she would never have to stare at this door again as it closed behind him.

She needed the words, she needed him to look at her in the eyes and tell her he would never leave her again, that he was hers, just as she was his. That she mattered enough to link his future to hers, that she was as much a part of his soul as he was of hers.

She required no flowers, no grand gestures, no empty words.

All she wanted was his love. 

* * *

Fenris was puzzled and annoyed. He had spend so much coin on flowers and sweets and little tokens of affection, and he had been sure they would have made an impression. But here he was, after nearly a week of sending her anything he could think of to show his appreciation and she was even colder than she had been the last time he had seen her, even more wary of him.

She had thanked him for the flowers and the sweets and all his presents, but it was clear they hadn’t swayed her. Fenris felt like tearing his hair out. He had come to invite her out, to take her dancing, and although her eyes had glittered like jewels at the thought for just a second, she had refused.

He had been made a laughing stock, Isabela and Varric openly trailing him every day, giggling like naughty children at his attempts to woo her, standing behind his shoulder and tossing him advice on what to get her at any stall he had stopped at. Even Sebastian and Anders had joined in on the fun at his expense, making him bristle.

Every single one of his efforts had met with unmovable resistance from Hawke. She’d had a sad, disappointed look on her face every single time he had visited her, and he had found himself going to her house with hope in his heart only to have it dashed by her words. _Thank you_ , she had said every single time. _It was lovely, but not what I wanted._

“Hawke,” he grumbled, “I am beginning to think you are doing this deliberately, just to torment me.”

“I am tormenting my own self here, Fenris,” she softly replied, running her hand through his hair, making him moan. “Don’t you think I want you back? But you haven’t given me one good reason why I should forgive you.”

“You love me,” he tried to capture her lips with his but she slipped away. “That is a good enough reason.”

She huffed and sent him a sad smile. “Nothing new there, I have loved you for more than three years. I loved you when you walked away, I loved you when you avoided me, I loved you when I smiled and pretended nothing was wrong while I was dying inside. I could go on loving you, I don’t need to forgive you for that.”

Fenris felt both the need to bawl like an infant at the pain in her words and the desire to grab her and shake her until she told him what she wanted to hear of him. He was getting seriously frustrated here. He took a few steps away and run both his hands through his hair, trying to resist the urge to yank.

“I will ask it of you just one more time Hawke. Forgive me. Or lose me, this time for ever,” he threatened.

She paled and took a step back but then composed herself and folded her arms across her chest.

“You know your way to the door, Fenris,” she whispered and turned away. “Don’t let it hit you on the ass on your way out.”

She was not going to watch him go, no, not again. A sob started clawing its way out of her throat. _Just go already_ , she frantically begged, _so I can cry without you seeing me_.

 She felt a hand on her shoulder and Fenris turned her violently towards him again.

Eyes huge with tears met his, and all the anger and frustration drained from inside him. His hand gentled on her shoulder and he used his calloused fingers to wipe the tears that slipped down her face.

“I cannot leave,” he sighed. “I just...it is beyond me. I will camp here outside your door until you forgive me. I can’t stand to leave you again.” He smiled wryly at her before adding, “I am yours”.

The tears started running more quickly at his words and he leaned in and kissed them away, his breath fanning her face, his lips trailing over her face, memorizing it, worshiping it with  kisses as soft as flower petals.

“All I wanted was this, you daft elf,” she softly cried and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her head in the crook of his neck. “Just your love. Nothing else.”

“Maker, I will kill that dwarf,” Fenris muttered before wrapping his arms around her too, and claiming her in a scorching, passionate kiss. He started walking her backwards towards the bed and she surrendered to him with a sigh of longing.

“What about him?” she dreamily asked, while her fingers  were busy with the clasps and fastenings of his armour.

“Woo her, he said,” Fenris kissed her again, his nimble fingers divesting her of her robe and smallclothes. “Court her, he said. Send her flowers. Couldn’t he tell me all I had to do was tell you how much I love you?”

She grew perfectly still and her eyes opened wide.

“You do?”Then her eyes narrowed. “Wait, wait..you went for advice...to Varric? And he told you....oh, I will kill him! I will wax his chest hair off!”

Fenris chuckled and pushed her back on the bed. He climbed up after her, and settled his lanky length on top of her, shivers and tingles running through his body at the sensation of her flesh touching his.

“Later...” he whispered, his mouth trailing over her creamy neck, taking in the slight saltiness of her skin and her scent, so amazing, so perfect, so her. “I’ll even help... But later...much, much later...”

She sighed and moaned as his lips grazed over the extremely responsive spot behind her ear and her hands started roaming on his now naked back. “Yes, later...” she agreed with a moan.

He raised his head and smiled at her, breaking her heart with the open loveliness of his grin.

“It might take a few weeks,” he warned her.

She laughed and kissed him.

“Don’t rush on my account.”

* * *

Varric yawned and turned side. Or at least tried to. He was jerked out of his sleep by the sensation of being unable to move; his eyes jerked open and his heart started racing.

“Hello, Varric!” a cheery voice greeted him.

“Hawke?” Varric tried to shake the last traces of sleepiness and squinted against the harsh morning light. “What are you doing here? Where have you been? I haven’t seen you for a week!”

“She was with me,” a silky bass replied and Varric turned to see the elf leaning against the wall near the door. The blighted elf had a wide smile plastered on his face and hickies and scratches along his neck and arms.

“That’s great, congratulations and all that, and if she ever has your puppies, save me one with spots,” Varric grumbled realizing he was tied to the posts. “Now kindly explain why I am tied to the bed, you mongrel!”

Hawke smiled sweetly. And then presented him with a razor.

“No,” Varric paled. “Not the chest hair. HAWKE, NO!!”

The end

 

 

 

 


End file.
